That First Night
by whoson1st
Summary: What happens after the Doctor leaves Rose and his duplicate on the beach? A bit angsty.


He stared moodily out at the bright city. From here, it looked like a million grounded stars, a whole galaxy made of bits of wire and filament. Bright enough to obscure the actual stars, the ones he longed for, the ones he'd never get close to again.

After the TARDIS left, during his one kiss with Rose, he'd held her hand as she stared disbelieving at the square impression it had left in the wet sand. He'd thought he heard a sob, but when he looked at her, her face was a mask, no emotion whatsoever registering. She'd turned away when Jackie called them, dropping his hand, and walked away without even looking back to see if he followed her.

Which he did. Because he'd follow her anywhere.

She'd been silent while they waited for the zeppelin to come for them. And then she'd been silent during the ride to the Tyler mansion. She'd barely glanced at him when she finally did speak, and it was only to say she was going to bed.

It had been a long day…with a lot of emotion. He knew that. And he knew that this was…bizarre. And she'd need time. But that didn't change the fact that all he wanted right now was to hold her, and to be held by her, the same way he'd been aching for her for three years.

He didn't think he could handle a whole night knowing that she was here and still keep himself from her.

He sighed heavily and turned away from the garden, making his way upstairs to her room. He doubted she'd actually be sleeping anyway.

oOoOoOo

Rose sat cross-legged on her bed and stared at nothing. He had left her. She had risked everything, sacrificed everything, to get back to him, and then he'd brought her back, and just…left.

He hadn't even said goodbye.

But he hadn't left either…somehow.

She had felt him watching her all way home, knew he was waiting for her to say something when she was ready. She still wasn't ready.

She didn't ever know if she'd be ready.

She looked up at the knock on her open door. He stood there, hands in the pockets of that terrible blue suit, looking at her with the same patience and concern he always did when she was trying to work through something that hurt her.

"Rose," he said, so quietly, it almost sounded like a prayer.

Her stomach clenched, and her eyes started to burn. And still, she could do nothing but stare at him.

"If there's anything," he continued, "anything at all that I can do to help you right now, please don't hesitate to ask. I'm here for you."

And that's when she snapped.

She leapt from her bed and attacked him, fists beating at his chest while she screamed, barely registering that he did nothing to defend himself.

"There's nothing you can do! NOTHING! You're not him! He left me here! He could have taken me along, but he left me here, with you! He didn't even say goodbye! He never does! He just vanishes! He showed me the universe, and then he left me here! ALONE!"

With that, the tears fell, hot and bitter. Sobs wracked her, robbing her of the strength to continue the onslaught of words and blows. She sagged against him as she wept, and she felt his arms come around her as they both sank to the floor in her doorway.

He was silent as he held her, occasionally smoothing the hair from her face. He just held her tight and rocked her gently as she cried out the pain of the time she spent waiting, the time she spent trying to get back, the time she'd lost when he walked away from her.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, she calmed.

"I'm going to move us over to the bed," he said, quietly. "Is that alright?"

She gave a small nod against his chest, and he lifted her and carried her over to the bed, laying down with her and cuddling her close. She didn't pull away.

Then he started talking. He talked about the adventures they'd had together, all the moments when he'd looked at her and been completely blown away by her existence, the moments that she'd shone like a beacon in the darkness when he felt like he was going to drown in the past. He talked about the adventures that he'd had after he'd lost her, about all the times he'd thought of her, about all the times he could barely breathe under the heaviness of his sorrow, about all the times he had been ready to give up because, without her, he couldn't remember what he was fighting for. He talked about how many times he replayed their last conversation in his head, all the times he'd screamed at the universe for not giving him time to tell her how much she meant to him. He talked about the nightmares, of reliving that moment when she looked back at him just before she disappeared forever, of waking up screaming in ways he hadn't since just after the war. He talked about how difficult he knew it was going to be for her to understand that they were two of the same person, but that she had to understand that walking away from her was still the hardest thing the Doctor had ever done.

"He might have given me to you," he said softly, unable to keep from his voice how grateful he was for this. "But you have to realize…he also gave you to me. For your happiness, and yours alone, he gave you to me, so that I could work as hard as he always wanted to, harder than he ever had a chance to, to make your life as wonderful as you deserve."

"He's alone," she said. It wasn't a question, but a statement. Even she knew that Donna couldn't last long as she was. All he could do was nod.

She was quiet for several minutes after that. He almost thought she'd fallen asleep, until he looked down and saw her gazing up at him, eyes still shiny and red rimmed from her tears. His breath hitched—she would always be the most beautiful woman in any universe.

"My Doctor," she whispered.

His heart stopped, and then started hammering at double speed.

"Still the Doctor, then?" He smiled, remembering the last time he'd asked her that.

"No arguments from me," she said, giving him the first smile he'd seen since the Crucible. He pulled her close then, angling his head to kiss her softly, and felt light headed when she responded. It wasn't the heat of the moment kiss that she'd given him on the beach. It was infinitely more powerful. They both poured into it all the love and longing and pain they'd been feeling for years, comforting each other and healing each other.

"Will you miss it?" she asked when they had finally broken apart. "The travelling, the adventures?"

"No," he replied, firmly. "Why would I? I've got a whole lifetime to spend here, being human, being in love. Not a bad life."

"Better with two," she whispered before turning out the lights and kissing him again.


End file.
